To Love and to Kill
by XxfictionalbookcharacterxX
Summary: Short, Sweeney-centric. Focuses mainly on his thoughts about the past, and who he has become. R&R if you feel so inclined to do so.


**I couldn't think of a better name. My apologies. Read and review, please?**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Sweeney Todd, he wouldn't have died.**

To Love and To Kill

My name is Benjamin Barker.

No, not Barker—that man is dead, gone, passed on. That man was stupid and foolish and naïve. _(Oh, so naïve….)_ That man is not me. I am Sweeney Todd, and Todd is none of those things. No, Todd is a man who will go to great, extensive lengths for revenge, a revenge he shall have. He is determined, focused, and no one will take it from him.

Barker was a man who loved.

He loved his wife Lucy and his daughter, Joanna. He was so full of love, it was what pushed him on, kept him going every day. Everything he did was out of love for them. Without Joanna, without Lucy, he had no life. He was nothing.

Todd cannot love.

That woman, Nellie Lovett, wants him to love her, tries to make him love her. He will never love her. Not in the same way he loved Lucy, never that way. He is a man hardened by the years. His heart has no room for love.

No, that's not true. Barker's love for Lucy and Joanna lives on in Todd; it was the thing that pushed him to everything he's done. All those men he killed, he killed for them. He kills men so that he can kill Judge Turpin, who ruined Barker's life and theirs. He kills those men out of his love for his family.

Or does Todd kill to avenge _himself_? Those men deserved to die, anyway. They were sinners, each and every filthy one of them. All of us deserve to die. The evil people's lives should be cut short, ended quickly, and to those who are good, an escape from this wicked world will be a relief.

Lucy has been relieved of her pain. She has let go of the world.

Joanna is still holding on, clutching it with all her might. But the reason she persists is not for Todd, or even Barker. It is for Anthony. She probably doesn't even know that her father _(the father that loves her, loves her with everything he has…) _lives on, or even exists. No, all she knows is Judge Turpin, he warden, and Anthony, her love.

Why am I not the subject of her love? Why do her eyes see only that boy, when her father loves her so much more? Barker did everything for her. Took care of her, raised her, _loved_ her. Todd continues to do things for her. The dead bodies pile up, the Judge grows closer, Todd's hands become more soiled with blood—all for her. All of it is for her.

Does she not care about the sacrifices I make for her? I've given her everything I have to give.

I'll never be able to see her. Lucy is gone, and Joanna had been my last hope. But I can't bear to see her—what if she looks just like Lucy, or nothing like her at all? It would be better if we never met, and for me to continue loving her from afar.

And even if we did meet, what would she think of me? Would she be disgusted by me? That is a thought I don't want to think. We will never meet, so I have nothing to worry about. I repeat it to myself: _We will never meet. We will never meet. We will never meet. We will never meet. I have nothing to worry about._

After all, it's for her. Wouldn't she want to be free, for the Judge to die? Todd will kill him for her. He's killed everyone for her.

Barker was a lover. Todd is a killer.

I am Todd.

I am a killer.

Aren't I?

Todd and I are one in the same. After Barker left, Todd surfaced. Not all at once, though—Todd overcame Barker bit by bit. At first, Todd was just Barker's hard outer covering that protected him from the pain. He strived to survive prison while Barker slowly perished inside. But soon Todd became more than just an act; he became me, and I became him. And Barker faded away, a ghost, a pale memory, a thing long gone.

I must be Todd. Barker is nothing. If I am not Todd, then who am I?

No. I am Todd. I am a killer.

My name is Sweeney Todd. I am a murderer.

And I do not feel regretful in the least.


End file.
